The Curse's Origins
by Sydelle Rein
Summary: He couldn't let Arthur do this. The old sorceress was not in her right mind. She deserved pity, not death. That is, until she mentions a young woman she once cursed. Merlin's blood runs cold, and Arthur stares at him in confusion. Merlin/Freya, no slash.


**A/N: Hello everyone! So here you go! This story has been solidly in the lead of the poll, and I finally got around to finishing it! It's been long in the making, and has turned out quite differently than I had originally intended for it. In any case, hope you like it!**

**Warning: /Slight/ spoiler from end of season three. But if you haven't finished it yet, shame on you! Perhaps you deserve some spoilers. Better yet, stop reading and go watch the show now. Then come back and read. :)**

**Enjoy!**

**The Curse's Origins**

"You can't," Merlin said softly.

"She's a sorceress, Merlin, it's the law."

"She's a crazy old lady! She's not going to hurt anyone!"

Arthur looked between his servant and the woman standing in front of them. She was old, hair greyer than his father's and wrinkles lining her face. She was also clearly not in her right mind. She could not stand in the same spot for more than two seconds before she continued pacing around the grass, muttering under her breath. She kept talking to someone named Seik, but there was no one here by that name. Only when they spoke directly to her did she regain enough of her senses to reply, but when not engaged in conversation she returned to her delusions.

Arthur stood in front of the witch, holding his sword unsurely in front of him.

"An insane sorceress is probably even more dangerous," Arthur answered after a pause, trying to convince himself.

"You don't believe that," Merlin answered, pleading with Arthur to see reason. He knew it was dangerous, speaking up for a sorceress, but he couldn't stand by and let Arthur do this. He wouldn't have even tried a year ago, but the prince had changed so much these past few months…maybe he would listen.

The knights stood in the background. All had their swords drawn, but were watching the scene unfold before them, waiting to see what their prince would do. Merlin couldn't help but wonder what they would do if Arthur _did_ decide to listen. Would they follow the prince's lead? Or stick to the king's law? He was fairly sure he knew what Lancelot, Gwaine, and even Elyon would decide, but Leon and Percival were mysteries.

"Boil some water for me, would you Seik? It's going to rain soon, my bones are starting to ache."

Arthur's sword lowered a fraction of an inch, eyes growing more and more uncertain. His grip on his sword tightened, though.

"It's the law," he repeated through clenched teeth. "I've sworn an oath."

"You've also sworn an oath to protect the innocent." Arthur didn't respond. "Arthur. You. Cannot. Do this," Merlin said again.

"I can and I will!" Arthur responded defiantly.

"Are you going to kill me?" the old lady asked, turning her attention to the men standing in front of her house once again. Arthur was taken aback by her sudden attention. Her eyes held a bit more clarity when speaking to them. "Just like you killed my Seik."

Arthur frowned at this. "I killed no such man," he responded.

"No? No. I suppose it wasn't you. But you're a lot like her. She didn't have any regard for life, either. Seik darling, be a dear and show our guests out." Arthur and Merlin remained where they were, not really knowing how to respond. "I cursed her, you know," she added, as though she had not just ordered them out.

Merlin's eyes widened. A curse…

"She won't bother my Seik again. She's learned her lesson, she has."

"What did you do to her?" Merlin asked softly. It was just a coincidence. It had to be.

The woman looked at him, seeming the most right-minded since they had seen her. "I cursed her," she repeated. Then she began her pacing once more, talking as if enraptured by the past—as if it had only just happened. "She liked killing, that one. Liked it a lot. Tried to hurt you, didn't she, Seik? But I stopped her. She's learned her lesson, she has."

"What did you do to her?" Merlin asked more firmly, completely oblivious to the six pairs of eyes that were fixed on him in bewilderment. They boy's whole demeanor had changed. He no longer seemed concerned with Arthur's decision at all.

"Cursed her," the crazy lady said yet again. "Or maybe gave her a gift. She liked killing so much, I gave her plenty of opportunity."

"No," Merlin whispered, as his blood ran cold. Apparently the sorceress' words meant more to Merlin than they did to anyone else present.

"She'll never stop killing now, no she won't. Bet she likes that, huh, Seik? Won't bother us no more. Not her. I'll never forget her face, that girl. Wretched girl. Wretched Freya."

No one was watching the woman anymore, all eyes were fixed on Merlin. But Arthur was the only one in a position to see Merlin's face.

His eyes. They were…they were so hateful. So angry. Arthur had never seen such powerful anger—least of all in _Merlin._ He seemed to be struggling with himself, as if just barely managing to restrain himself from attacking the woman he was previously defending.

Then, suddenly, without any warning, Merlin threw himself at the woman in a fit of rage. Arthur let his sword fall to the ground, wrapped his arms around Merlin to stop him and threw him backwards with such force that the boy nearly knocked Lancelot over.

There was a small moment of confusion, as though Merlin was wondering what it was that could have stopped him, and then he tried to lunge forwards again.

This time it was Lancelot's turn. He hooked his arms around Merlin's shoulders and restrained him. He frantically whispered something into Merlin's ear—Arthur couldn't hear what—but whatever he said made Merlin instantly stop struggling. Lancelot relaxed his hold and Merlin shook him off.

"Merlin?" Arthur asked quietly.

That one word seemed to strike the boy. He flinched as though expecting a blow to the head. Slowly, his eyes shifted and met Arthur's. He was still angry, but laced through the anger was fear, and confusion, and a terrible sadness. Arthur was at a loss. He had never seen Merlin like this. Never so open, never so _lost. _Lancelot's gaze shifted between the two nervously.

"Everything all right, mate?" Gwaine asked in concern.

Without a word, Merlin turned on his heel and stormed out threw the group of knights. Arthur watched him leave, not knowing how to respond.

"Thank you, Seik," the woman said, drawing everyone's attention back to her. "He left. That angry boy left. He was angry, yes he was. Angry angry. Thank you for making him leave, Seik. Good boy. Fetch some water for tea, would you Seik?"

Arthur stared at her for a long moment, wondering what to do. For some reason, he was more hesitant to kill her after Merlin's display of rage. It was as though their roles had flipped. Merlin was always the voice of reason, but with him being so blinded, reason had to fall to Arthur's lot instead.

He picked up his sword and sheathed it. "Let's go," he muttered and stalked away from the house. The other knights silently followed.

.~.

When they reached camp, Merlin was nowhere to be found, leaving the knights standing around awkwardly for a moment.

"So, does anyone know what that was about?" Gwaine asked, looking primarily at Arthur and Lancelot in turn, since neither Leon, Percival, or Elyon knew Merlin very well. Arthur and Lancelot both looked at each other, neither offering an explanation.

"Perhaps someone should go find him," Leon suggested.

"I'll go," three voices rang out together, leaving Lancelot, Gwaine, and Arthur exchanging uncomfortable glances at each other.

Lancelot almost seemed a little worried. "No," he said after the awkward moment stretched on. "We should let him cool off," he suggested instead. "Merlin will come back when he's ready to."

There was another awkward silence, and then the group silently broke into the activity of preparing camp for dark, which was coming soon.

"I'll go and fetch some firewood," Lancelot volunteered.

Arthur looked over at him suspiciously. He had a feeling that Lancelot had a different plan entirely. Unfortunately, Lancelot didn't stick around long enough for Arthur to voice his objections, not that he could think of a reason to gracefully object, anyways. What was he supposed to say? _I know you're going to find Merlin! You can't do that! That's my job!_ The words sounded stupid even in his own head. There was no way he was going to find out how they would sound out loud.

"I'm going to get some water," Arthur informed the men. Leon wordlessly tossed his own waterskin to him, a silent request to fill his as well. Arthur obediently took it and headed in the direction of the river.

He would take his time, though, and hopefully spot Merlin somewhere on the way. Though he had no idea which direction the boy had gone.

Unfortunately, there was no Merlin to be found at the river. Arthur quickly filled the two skins, but then turned and headed upriver instead of returning. No one would think anything if he took a few extra minutes…

.~.

Merlin sat on a log and stared as the water passed by him. He'd been careful where he finally planted himself. The camp was quite a ways downstream, so even if any of the knights came for water, they wouldn't find him.

His heart felt like it had been wrenched out of him. He never, _never_ thought he would meet that woman. Never…It was so agonizingly taunting. A reminder of all the pain that Freya had faced, a pain that he had promised to take her away from, which he had failed.

It had happened so long ago now. Almost two years had passed since she had died. But seeing her again during Morgana's attack, talking with her again…it had brought everything back to the surface again. And now, after seeing _that woman…_

He was _angry._

Merlin did not get angry very easily. Annoyed, yes. Afraid, yes. Angry, not so much. He wanted to go back. He wanted to march right up to that woman and—

Merlin stopped himself from finishing that sentence. Even in the safety of his mind they seemed too horrible. How could he ever want to kill someone? He had killed before, but he had never _wanted _to. Now he wanted to. And the thought scarred him enough that it kept him from going back.

Something cold hit his hand. Glancing, down, Merlin saw a drop of water. It took him a moment to realize he was crying.

He stared out at the river. He felt cold. He wasn't sure how long he stayed like that.

When a hand landed on his shoulder, startling him out of his reverie, Merlin nearly blasted the unfortunate soul with a wave of his magic. Thankfully—for both their sakes—he restrained the instinct and nearly stood and spun around, where he stood face to face with Lancelot.

"Hello, Merlin," Lancelot offered. Merlin stared at him in confusion for a while, not really comprehending why he was there. Wordlessly, Lancelot pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to him. Merlin took it numbly, still not sure why it was being offered.

"Oh," he said at last, and used it to dry his face.

"So…do you want to talk about it?"

Merlin hesitated. But if he could talk to anyone it would be Lancelot.

"That woman…she cursed someone very important to me." He clenched his fists at his sides. "I…I never thought I would meet her."

Lancelot nodded slowly. "That Freya girl?"

"Yes."

"Where is she now?"

Merlin closed his eyes to fight back the tears that threatened him again. He didn't entirely succeed. "Dead," was all he said.

"I see." There was a long moment of silence between then. "Am I right in assuming this is not something you want the others to know?"

"She was a druid."

Lancelot's eyes widened for a moment. "Ah."

Merlin clenched his fists again. "I want to…I just want to…!"

"No," Lancelot interrupted firmly, his own eyes hardening. "Merlin, that's not you. Don't even think it."

"But if it wasn't for her, Freya would still be _alive!_" Merlin protested. "It's not fair! Freya didn't deserve that! That wretched boy was _attacking_ her! She was _defending_ herself!"

Lancelot gripped Merlin's shoulders. "Merlin!" he practically shouted, giving his friend a firm shake. "Don't!"

Something in Merlin snapped. Letting out a cry of frustration, he sent Lancelot flying backwards to collide with a tree.

With a groan, Lancelot slumped to the ground. Rubbing his aching head, he looked pointedly up at Merlin.

Merlin's eyes, still burning gold, slowly faded into their original blue, as his anger melted into horror.

"Lancelot!" he cried out, rushing forward. He sunk to his knees in front of the knight, wanting to help but almost afraid to do anything. "I'm sorry!" he exclaimed. "I'm so sorry! I—I didn't mean it!" As his anger deserted him, Merlin felt guilt and a consuming emptiness take its place. He wrapped his arms around himself.

Lancelot watched him silently for a moment, ignoring the pain blossoming in the back of his head, wishing he could take his friend's much deeper pain away. After a moment, he did the only thing he could do, and pulled Merlin into an embrace.

.~.

Wandering along the river, Arthur heard a loud cry followed by a crashing sound. Worried that it might be Merlin and that he might be in trouble, Arthur discarded the flasks he was still carrying and sprinted towards the sound.

Five minutes later, he the prince stopped dead, panting slightly, and feeling rather at a loss of what to do. Lancelot looked up at him over Merlin's head and gave a mini-shrug.

For some idiotic reason, he hadn't actually thought about what he would do if he actually _found_ Merlin.

Arthur pondered how he could proceed. He could just walk away, Merlin hadn't even seen him…

But he couldn't just leave him obviously so upset, even if Lancelot was there. And maybe, though Arthur was loathe to admit it, _because_ Lancelot was there. It was Arthur's job to watch out for Merlin. The boy _was_ his servant after all.

Ultimately, Arthur decided that the best thing to do was to be his prattish self. Not that he would ever say that out loud.

"_Merlin."_ Merlin froze at the sound, drawing away from Lancelot and hastily trying to compose himself before turning around. "If you're _going_ to be such a girl, you could at least tell us where you're going before you go storming off like that. It would save us the trouble of _looking_ for you."

"Sorry, Sire," Merlin responded weakly. He stood up and brushed the dirt off his knees, followed by Lancelot.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Don't apologize, you idiot. Just tell me what the heck is going on? Who was that woman?"

Merlin stiffened at the question, then his shoulders slumped in defeat. "I don't know her," he admitted. "But the girl she mentioned? Freya?" Arthur nodded, silently inviting/ordering him to continue. "She was a friend."

"I didn't know you had a special lady-friend," Arthur said, hoping to lighten the mood somewhat.

Merlin sighed. "We were close," he admitted. "But…she was killed. Because of the curse that sorceress placed on her."

Arthur's eyes widened. "When was this?" he demanded.

Merlin hesitated. "Just under two years ago," he admitted finally.

Arthur glared at him. "_Merlin!" _he scolded. "Why on earth didn't you _tell_ me!"

He shrugged, taking in a shaky breath. "It never came up," was all he said. Arthur was inclined to throttle him. What was he supposed to have done? _Hey Merlin, by any chance has anyone you care about died recently? _How was he supposed to know? Merlin was always so annoyingly cheerful! Like nothing ever bothered him!

"You should have said something." Arthur crossed his arms in front of him in stubbornness.

"You have more important things to worry about."

"You're an idiot," he responded. Then he abruptly turned on his heel and strode away.

Lancelot and Merlin exchanged uncertain glances, completely baffled by the prince's behavior. Both of them hurried after him.

"Arthur what are you doing?" Merlin asked, jogging to catch up.

"Going to kill the sorceress, of course."

Merlin eyes widened in surprise. He'd half expected that Arthur had already killed her.

"What? Why?"

Arthur stopped dead and looked at him pointedly. It was very similar to the look Lancelot had given him, only somehow more prattish.

"She's a sorceress," he said simply. "I didn't kill her before because she was just old and crazy. But you just gave me an excellent reason to kill her anyways." He started walking again. "If she's going around cursing innocent people, someone needs to stop her."

Merlin quickened his pace so he could step in front of Arthur and stop him. "No," he said, almost desperately. "Arthur, you don't get it." Lancelot was right. It wasn't him to wish for someone's death. "There's been enough death. Someone has to stop it."

Arthur glared at him. "Why on earth would you defend this woman after what she's done to you?"

Merlin shook his head. "Killing her…it won't bring Freya back. Please, Arthur," he asked. "Just let this go." Arthur still looked annoyed at the request. "I'd never forgive myself if I let someone die just for some kind of…revenge," Merlin added.

Arthur continued to glower. "Only _you_ could be made to feel _guilty_ in a situation like this."

"Arthur, please."

"Fine!" he spat out. "But I'm not happy about it!"

He stormed off through the trees towards camp, Merlin and Lancelot lagging behind him.

If anyone noticed that Arthur, Lancelot, and Merlin all returned together, or that Arthur was glowering, that Merlin's eyes were slightly red, or that Lancelot had a lump on the back of his head, or that no one brought back any firewood or water, well…no one said a word.


End file.
